


Many Are The Stars I See

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean POV, Other, UST, Unrequited Love, incestuous thoughts, lack of porns, not wincest, wanted wincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may not have been the way he wanted his Valentine exactly, but it was who he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many Are The Stars I See

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.
> 
> Written for my flist at livejournal. Trust me, be glad it came out this instead of the dark and demented Valentine I was initially thinking of. I’m not feeling particularly Valentine-y IRL, but I do love ya’ll.

_“Many are the stars I see, but in my eye no star like thee.” English saying used on poesy rings_

**February 13, 2006 (Evening)**

It had been a long and difficult hunt taking out that poltergeist at the local elementary school, and now the Winchesters could clean up, eat and sleep.

Except for Dean.  Dean was too keyed up, he still had the adrenaline running through his body and felt like a live wire.  Monsters and kids, that combination got to him more than any other.  It always made him think of Sam – not that he was ever _not_ thinking of Sam.  It just made him feel even more protective and reflective of his little brother.  Which made him feel – but _no_ , he was not thinking of that.  Nope.

As soon as they entered their standard issue gaudy motel room and groaned simultaneously at the décor before both rolling their eyes, Dean tossed his duffel on the bed nearest the door.

“Dean, I can-“

“No Sam.  Big brother territory, this ain’t ever gonna change, you’re sleeping away from the door.  Go shower, bitch, you stink.”  With that directive, Dean plopped down on the lumpy sofa, turning on the television to look for something with a lot of action and the requisite blowing up of stuff that would actually calm him down.  He grabbed a beer from the green cooler and kicked his feet up on the lid.

Sam shook his head and made his way to the bathroom, grumbling slightly.  Dean was pretty sure he heard the word _jerk_ in there, and could only smile fondly.

Once the water started up, Dean relaxed slightly.  Sam took forever in the shower.  Dean’s thoughts began drifting as he drank his beer.

One of the kids they’d rescued had looked and acted like a young Sam.  Shaggy chestnut hair, tilted hazel eyes full of cleverness and insatiable curiosity, just the beginnings of a growth spurt to his frame and dimples – not as wide or as beautiful as Sam’s, but yeah, he was gonna be a heartbreaker, just like Sam was.

Except Sam didn’t know he was a heartbreaker.  Sam didn’t have a clue about that.

And Dean was not going to clue him in, because-well, just no.  No.  Sam had owned Dean’s heart from birth.  That wasn’t a surprise to anyone that knew them.  The surprise had hit Dean when Sam, late bloomer that he was, became a chick magnet in his late teens and a switch inside Dean tripped.

Yeah.  _Sam_ was the chick magnet.  More so than Dean, honestly.  But you’d never know it, because Dean always took care of the girls crushing hard on his brother every time with a lie about Sam to put them off or outright charming them away so Sam would still be all his.

So what?  It wasn’t logical.  In fact, it was pretty low.  Dean was jealous, he could admit it.  And possessive.  And maybe a little attracted-well, ok, a lot attracted to his little brother.  And that wasn’t right.  So to bury his own feelings, he made sure no girl got more than a little taste of Sam – a blinding smile or some school related dialogue, maybe a brief interaction at a school function.  Girls pretty much fell over Sam.  Sam didn’t ever see it; he was too busy hero worshipping Dean and snarking at Dad.

But Dean saw it.  Almost daily.  Sam was truly irresistible.  He was open and friendly, always willing to lend a hand; stopping to pick up someone’s dropped books or hold a door open.  He was street-smart and carried himself with a degree of confidence most high school boys didn’t have, yet he was not a bully.  He had hair so soft and long you wanted to run your fingers through it.  His beautiful foxlike eyes twinkled, yeah, they fucking _twinkled_ and when he smiled, those deep dimples came out and his face lit up a room.  His laugh was engaging.  He was tall and slightly lanky, but Dean had seen the firm muscle on his still lithe frame and knew it was only going to get better with time.  Sometimes Sam was goofy, but that only made him more endearing.  He really didn’t know how to flirt, he was mostly a bookworm.   So there was this quiet and sensitive side to him that was well read and socially a bit awkward.  But he played soccer on every school team he could, showing off those developing muscles and proving he was one of the guys as well.  Polite and well mannered, no one guessed he could lie as well as Dean.  Sam was the picture perfect guy every girl wanted to bring home to her parents. When parents met the Winchester brothers, it was always immediately assumed Sam was the good brother while Dean was the bad boy.  And Dean was more than willing to take the blame or the bad reputation to keep Sam golden.

Sam was beautiful, he had such a pure heart, and he followed Dean around like a loyal and overgrown puppy.  Dean kinda loved that and encouraged it even, consciously or not.

He was quickly pulled out of his reverie when the sound of the shower turned off and he heard Sam calling his name.

“Dean!”  Sam’s voice sounded slightly exasperated.

“Yeah Sammy?”  Dean quickly schooled his features, knowing he probably looked sentimental, lost in his thoughts about Sam.

“Dude, can you bring me a towel?  I’ve been trying to get your attention – you better not be watching porn on my laptop again."

Dean blushed red head to toe, correlating in his head porn and Sam.  He got up and grabbed a towel from the counter and reached a hand in the crack of the door Sam had opened, willing himself not to try and take a peek.  This never got easier.

“Not on your laptop, man.  Just thinking, got lost in my thoughts.”  Dean walked over to his bed and lay down.  Staring at the ceiling, he automatically glanced over when he heard the bathroom door open.  Without thinking he inhaled sharply when Sam came out, the threadbare towel wrapped around his very cut hipbones, water beading down his chest, his hair still dripping a bit.

“About the case?  Your turn, Dean.  I even left you some hot water.”  Sam chuckled to himself (probably because there really was no hot water left) and started digging around in his bag for a fresh change of sleepwear, settling on a pair of navy boxer briefs and a pair of gray sweats.  No shirt.  Dean’s mouth went dry watching Sam pull on those body fitting boxer briefs underneath the towel before he could pull it together to get up and gather his travel kit, not forgetting a towel and his own pajamas.

“Yeah, about the case,” murmured Dean.  _Nice save_.  “Thanks.”  Dean quickly walked into the bathroom and shut the door.  He tried to get his breathing under control, distinctly aware that Dean junior wanted some action, and knowing that was not in the cards tonight with his current mindset.

Dean stared a long time in the mirror, looking at himself without really seeing.  He and Sam had been back on the road together three months now.  Dean had known when he drove Sam back to his own place after that hunt for the woman in white, there was no keeping him.  Dean had had to let Sam go four years ago, for Sam’s own good as well as Dean’s, when he first went to Stanford.  It had hurt like hell, because it was that exact moment when Sam had told him, that he realized he didn’t just love Sam.  He was in love with Sam.  If you love something, set it free, right?

Turning on the shower, waiting for a stream of warm, if not hot water, he let his mind drift again.  After a few moments, he stepped into the spray, letting the water beat down his back.

So Dean had let him go.  And Sam found Jessica.  Finally, a girl that didn’t have Dean interfering, and of course she fell in love with Sam.  Sam, without his big brother around, had let his heart belong to someone else.

It had thrown Dean off guard when he first met her.  The jealousy of Sam loving her, the jealousy of her getting to keep Sam, mixed with a bittersweet happiness for Sam.  But then Jessica had died, and Sam was Dean’s again.  He shouldn’t be happy about that.  He shouldn’t.  Seeing Sam in grief over her death was heartbreaking.  Dean couldn’t fix it.  All he could do was what he’d always done.  Act like being the big brother and taking care of Sam were all that mattered.

And those things _were_ all that mattered.  Because Sam couldn’t know the truth of why it was so damn important to Dean.  How very much more it was than just being his brother.  Dean would never tell Sam his true feelings.  He’d buried them for so long yet with every hunt, with every passing day spending time with Sam 24/7 it was getting harder to keep a secret.

Dean kept up appearances with other women.  He really did enjoy women, and heaven knew he’d had his fair share, Sam’s share too.  But his heart was reserved for Sam, even when Cassie had been around and he was so desperate for returned affection that could mean something more.  He couldn’t let her in all the way, and she knew it, knew something was holding him back.  He loved Sam so very much.  It wasn’t just lust or desire, even though Sam sure had looked like a delicious lickable lollipop walking out into their room a few moments ago.

No, Dean knew it was love.  And he wasn’t romantic or sappy or starry-eyed about it.  He just knew it.

So how did you let someone know you love them, without really letting them know, because it was largely inappropriate?  Sometimes he wished he could be honest and just say it.  He didn’t only because he was afraid of losing Sam forever, which he couldn’t bear.

Turning off the water and thinking about the man outside the bathroom that he loved more than life, Dean sighed, toweling off before getting dressed.  His clothes clung to him damply as he made his way back into the bedroom.

Sam was curled into a sizeable ball on half of the couch, his gaze not quite focused on the movie playing.  Sleep was starting to settle in, Dean could tell.  He made his way over to him, taking up the other side of the dilapidated monstrosity, noticing Sam was still not wearing a shirt.  Taking a deep breath, Dean poked Sam on his thigh repeatedly, trying to be annoying.  Sam began to rouse.

“Sammy, hey man, why don’t you head to bed?”  Dean had a tiny smile on his lips as he watched his brother unfold and rearrange himself next to him.

“No Dean, I’m good.  Just, wanna stay up a while with you.  I always konk out and we never get to talk.”

“Yeah Sam, you know I don’t do talking so well.”

“I know, but well…I could use my big brother tonight.”  Sam looked over at Dean, and there was no way Dean could refuse the sweet puppy dog look Sam was so capable of doing with complete innocence.  Although Sam’s voice sounded a little wistful, a little melancholy, and that put Dean on alert.

“Sure man, I’m here.  What’s on your mind?  Was it the hunt with the kids earlier?  That always gets me too, but we’re done dude, they’re safe now.”  Dean shook his head, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“No, Dean, it’s not that.  It’s…well, it’s stupid.”  Sam bit his lip, looking for all the world like he might cry at any moment.  Dean knew Sam had been trying not to cry in front of him over the last few months, stifling his grief, given the “no chick flick moments” rule.

Dean tried to get Sam to look at him, but Sam was staring at his sweat pants, fiddling with the fabric bunched up around his ankle.  Sighing, he placed his hand on Sam’s thigh and squeezed slightly.

“Sam, talk to me.  I know I don’t do the touchy-feely stuff, but it’s important to you, so it’s not stupid, I promise.”  Dean hated seeing that look of utter sadness on his little brother’s face and would do anything to fix it and make him feel better, anything to get the sun to come out again.

Sam looked up at Dean, tried to give a small smile that came out as a quivering lip instead, and tears started running down his face.

“I don’t have a Valentine for tomorrow,” Sam breathed quietly, “because Jessica is gone.”  A few seconds passed, and then Sam was full on sobbing, reaching over to Dean and twisting his hand in Dean’s shirt.

Dean’s immediate reaction was to pull his baby brother over to him tightly, wrapping his arms around Sam and slowly rocking him back and forth on the couch.  He let Sam cry it out, rubbing circles on his back, as Sam’s tears soaked into his shirt, and Sam’s heavy breathing left his collarbone feeling hot and damp.  He could feel Sam’s wet eyelashes flutter against his neck.  He wanted nothing more than to kiss his little brother and tell him that _he_ loved him, to let Sam know he was loved, romantically, and not alone.

Letting Sam go just a bit and pulling back ever so slightly, he lifted Sam’s head up so they could make eye contact; and did what he could do, the only thing he could do.  Dean told his brother the truth.

“I love you, Sam.  I always have.  If you want me to, I’ll be your Valentine.”  Dean meant every word he said.  He was finally being honest with himself, and with Sam.  He knew Sam wouldn’t understand how very much he meant it outside of being brothers with every fiber of his being.  He also knew he’d likely never have an opportunity to say it like that again.

Sam stared for several moments, hazel eyes always so inquisitive demanding unspoken answers from the green gaze steadily locked on him.  He sniffled, nodded and then gave a small smile, one dimple starting to poke out.  Clouds were starting to part.

“Dean.”  Sam took several deep breaths and sighed.  He shook his head as if to clear it, but when he looked at Dean again there was still a slightly dimpled smile.  Partial sunshine.

“Dean, I know you love me, I love you too, man.  I just.  Well, thanks for offering, but I don’t think brothers can be each other’s Valentines, can they?"

Dean quickly tried to cover his tracks.

“Sure they can, Sammy.  Remember when you were little you brought me Valentine’s from school every year?  And I’m pretty sure Hallmark sells cards for every relationship under the sun for Valentine’s Day.  So yeah, brothers can be Valentine’s."

Dean watched Sam take that in, his brain processing what Dean had said and whatever he’d seen in Dean’s eyes.  Sam had stopped crying.  Dean had laid his soul bare, although Sam didn’t know it.  It felt good, scary, but good.  Surprisingly liberating.

Sam turned his eyes on Dean again, meeting him squarely.  “Yeah, ok.  You can be my Valentine.  But you’re buying dinner tomorrow night.”  He stuck out his tongue, and before Dean could think to respond, he had a lapful of Sam, hugging him.  “Thanks, Dean.  I really do love you too, you know?”  Sam quickly dropped a small kiss to Dean’s forehead before he hopped up and made his way to his bed.

Dean’s brain might have gone a bit offline at that point.  Sam hadn’t done that since he was a young teenager.  But the smile on his face, that smile like sunshine was all Dean needed to see.   It may not have been the way he wanted his Valentine exactly, but it was who he wanted.  And he would take whatever he could get.

Now how to go about asking Sam every year if he’ll be his Valentine, that was going to be tricky, but he’d figure it out.  And maybe, just maybe, someday Sam would figure it out too.


End file.
